Piltover's Finest: Then and Now
by releasetheweasel
Summary: Some say death is the end, but for those left behind it's only the beginning. Following the death of a friend, where will Piltover's Finest go from here? And how did they end up like this anyway?


The rain on the windowsill tapped gently to remind Caitlyn that today would be an unpleasant one. With a sigh she pulled her attention away from the papers in hand and looked out toward the sky. It had been gray for days, though she never really noticed it. Vi had once brought it to her attention how Piltover often saw more gray skies than blue. Growing up on the streets must have lead her to pay closer attention to the weather, Caitlyn suspected. Admittedly anytime Caitlyn asked about the weather or commented on the wind's howl it was little more than polite smalltalk to save her from actual dreaded conversation.

The tops of the tallest buildings were lost to the clouds and Caitlyn could only hope they'd still be there when things cleared up. A foolish thought, but the state of Piltover had decayed recently in no small part due to the terrorist known as Jinx. Caitlyn clenched her fist at the thought of her, creating creases in the report she held.

She had already read the report six (or was it seven?) times now. An explosion. Several bodies found. Identification difficult. Likeliness of Jinx's involvement: high. Pulling back from the window Caitlyn continued her pace around the office. She had tried to sit at her desk. She had tried to organize the papers spilled across it relating to the case. But she simply couldn't sit still and remain productive at the same time.

Not today. Today of all days.

She'd rather be out on the streets patrolling. With Jinx's invitation to chaos emboldening the criminal element back into action there was no shortage of old fashioned Piltovan peacemaking to be done. Muggers stalked the alleyways. Thieves breaking and entering. Robbers stealing piece of mind and sense of security. The old days were back.

Maybe this is what she gets. After all, Caitlyn had started to believe those days were behind her. She had cleaned up the streets of Piltover and moved on to bring justice to the rest of Valoran. Maybe the scum had simply taken harbor to weather the storm. While her duty as sheriff shifted from peacemaker to pageantry, from local to global, they were merely lying in wait for their patron goddess of destruction to deliver them to salvation.

A knock at the door drew Caitlyn from her thoughts and forced her into her chair. For appearances' sake. She didn't bother tidy up the desk however, this was how she worked. Seeing every piece was crucial. Besides that, a quick glance at the frosted window revealed two blurred silhouettes, one quite larger than the other. She already knew who they were and would be damned if she had to make any extra effort to impress them.

"Come in," she called, summoning Jayce and Ezreal into the room. The two wore black suits, though not quite matching. Jayce's was of a better quality, likely custom tailored, appropriate for his celebrity status within the city. Ezreal's, by contrast, was store bought. And from the wrinkles on his shirt which hadn't been ironed out Caitlyn could tell it had been waiting in a closet only to be worn on days like today.

"How are you doing?" Jayce asked not before gently closing the door behind him. He stood by the entrance while Ezreal pulled up the chair opposite Caitlyn's desk. With only a matching chair located next to her desk at a skewed angle her dare not sit in, Jayce felt he'd remain standing. Standing promoted strength, and he needed to portray as much stability as possible.

"I'm well, thank you for asking," she replied as a proper lady should. With her accent though, anything said would sound proper. Growing up the daughter of a statesman had drilled etiquette into her core.

All was silent in the room but the light, persistent patter of the rain as the three struggled internally with how to proceed. Ezreal errantly peeled a paper from the desk, a feedback printout from the Patrol Rescue Bots, and casually glanced over it. No signs of injured personnel. No signs of suspect individuals.

"We should get going," Jayce finally broke in, checking the time on his pocket watch.

"You two go on ahead," Caitlyn gestured for the door as she turned her gaze back to the mess of a case on her desk. "I'll catch up when I'm done here."

"Caitlyn," Ezreal sympathetically whined, "you can't avoid this. We'll go together."

"It's a rather pointless ritual if you ask me," she responded, avoiding eye contact by acting as if every paper she shuffled across her desk were new to her. "They're burying an empty box. It's silly."

Ezreal looked back at Jayce, knowing the taller man wouldn't be able to say the harsh truth of the situation. "Caitlyn you know as well as I do that they found..." he paused, fumbling to find the right words for such a sensitive subject. "... Sufficient evidence."

"Be that as it may, I have to review this case one more time before it gets too cold. On top of that Vi left me a stack of paperwork which-"

"ENOUGH!" Jayce snapped, his booming voice startling everyone in the office, himself included. He fought the urge to tremble, his whole body trying to betray him. Composure had never been an issue for him before. In the eye of the public it was nothing but a quick smile and an effortless quip before they were eating out of his hand. In the face of his enemies he laughed and boasted without a care in the world. But here, in this office, in the presence of his friends alone he found he could barely contain himself. "Don't act like this. Like this whole thing doesn't matter to you. Stop acting like such an emotionless coldhearted bitch. We're going."

Caitlyn slowly rose from her chair, both hands on the desk for support. She shot a look as lethal as any from her rifle at the tall man. Ezreal gracefully slipped from the chair and slunk over to the wall, afraid of getting caught in the crossfire.

"And tell me why I should listen to you?" she coldly asked.

"Because you're also wearing black." His confidence had returned, or he had at least swallowed his nerves hard enough to believe it had as he answered. Caitlyn held her ground. She was mentally defeated but refused to admit it yet. Her entire demeanor could have cracked even the most hardened of criminals into singing like a bird, but behind her eyes Jayce could see reason starting to take command again.

"Very well," she finally straightened up.

Ezreal dared breath again. He finally slipped off the wall and made for the door. This had been too much for him and the day was still early. How he wished he could be alone right now, in a tunnel or a cave system. Peace and quiet, just him and his maps. Not that he was anti-social, he simply had an appreciation for the simple things. Like avoiding traps and natural hazards that could crush, cut, bash, bruise or break him. Compared to this, near-death situations were much easier to handle. And preferred.

Caitlyn crossed the room, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor, to grab her coat and umbrella from the rack. Jayce held the door for her, partially because he was a gentleman but mostly to assure she left the office. Caitlyn paused after taking a step passed Jayce before she turned and stabbed her umbrella into his broad shoulder. Her words were like icicles, cold and sharp.

"Jayce? You don't _ever_ get to talk to me like that again. Understood?"

* * *

_With a heavy sigh, Caitlyn finally sat behind her own desk again. She had been away for too long it seemed. She'd almost forgotten what her office looked like. Simple. She kept no adornments on her desk or walls. Neat. The filing cabinets pushed to the corner, her desk squarely in the center, her back to the window. There was a coat rack near the door and two chairs for guests._

_ Peace. That's the word she'd use to describe it. She needed peace now more than ever having just returned from Demacia yet again. It seemed the cat burglar known only by his calling cards, C, had eluded her once again._

_ It had been many years since the start of Caitlyn's career. The daughter of one of Piltover's statesman and a brilliant hextech engineer, she was well slated to live the easy life of an heiress wasting away her family's fortune on partying and scandal coverups._

_ But she wouldn't settle for that life. She wasn't the type of person to settle at all. After her father was mugged on his way home one evening, the then fourteen year old girl took up arms and decided to make a difference. After years of vigilante justice had made her a poster child for the City of Progress, she had earned the title as Sheriff of Piltover._

_ Since then crime had been at an all time low. The criminals feared her. The common man loved her. But one man, a shifty, conniving, amoral man taunted her._

_ C._

_ He had been pulling heists from Noxus to Demacia. From the Freljord to Bandle City. Everywhere he went leaving only his card behind. Caitlyn had nearly found him in Demacia. Shot him off a tower as he tried to escape. Though she watched him fall, there was no body. No blood. No sign of him other than the card._

_ A knock at the door brought her attention back to the world and she perked up in her chair._

_ "Come in," she called out, pushing away the thoughts of her most recent foil. A young woman entered the room, dressed sharply in a vest and slacks. Her hair was tied back in a bun and she carried a small stack of papers to her chest with one arm. Caitlyn didn't recognize her. A new member of the department. Had she really been away that long?_

_ "I'm sorry to disturb you ma'am," she softly spoke, quick and a little flustered. "I know you've only just returned, and I have some files here for you. I was going to wait, but, well, ma'am..." she trailed off timidly._

_ "Please dear, go ahead," Caitlyn encouraged her to continue._

_ "Well, the kettle..." And then Caitlyn heard it. The shrill yell of the kettle from the break room had pierced the the air for a few moments without the sheriff's notice. How was that even possible? Caitlyn had many talents; sharp shooting, undeniable beauty. By no means were her observational skills anything less than superb._

_ "Yes, sorry, I was just lost in thought I suppose. Would you care for a spot of tea?"_

_ "No ma'am! I'm good, please, don't worry about me." Was this girl afraid of her? Caitlyn looked around the room again. It was bare. Strict. Uninviting. The only thing to draw your eye was the custom made hunting rifle reminding you what line not to cross._

_ At what point during her obsession with this criminal had she changed, Caitlyn wondered._

_ "I insist. Come now," she said warmly, trying to put the new recruit at ease. Caitlyn lead the way to the break room where she removed the kettle from the burner and poured two cups of tea. The new girl had placed the stack of papers on the table. Caitlyn smiled as she presented the drink, and took one of the sheets off the top of the stack. A crime scene report._

_ "What are all these," she asked as she scanned it over. Three perps found unconscious at the scene. Witnesses say they attempted to rob a grocer when a fourth criminal 'burst through the wall like a bulldozer' (she mouthed the incredulous sentence silently as she read.)_

_ "Those are case files from while you were away. Crime picked up a little bit after you had left. A new criminal has been marked a high priority target. These are all her records."_

_ Caitlyn finished the report as the girl spoke. The fourth criminal, after arriving on the scene, proceeded to mercilessly beat the first three into submission. She caused massive property damage in the process. She pocketed a handful of the stolen gold and fled the scene before authorities arrived._

_ "What do you know of her?" Caitlyn inquired, shuffling a few pages around. Many of the reports read similar to the one in her hand._

_ "She has a tattoo on her face. The Mount Targonian numeral six. Seems to be her name because witnesses have heard her screaming as she breaks onto the scene 'Here comes Vi.'"_

_ Vi huh?_

_ Caitlyn grabbed the stack of papers and returned to her office without a word. She had a new objective. It was time to start planning. She was on the case._

* * *

Every face she recognized and every face she hated. Why were they here? Was it merely obligation? Or were they afraid of the consequences if they didn't? They weren't mourning. She clenched her jaw at the thought that some of them would even celebrate this. Go out for drinks later as if some burden had been lifted off their shoulders.

Caitlyn really wished she had her rifle. She wouldn't use it. No, these people didn't deserve that. It was more that she felt vulnerable without it. A part of her was missing. A nagging thought reminded her every so often to stand straight without compensating for the weight of the gun.

As the moment of silence ended, Jayce took to the podium and started to say a few words. He spoke loud and clearly, accustomed to public speaking. His voice boomed out even over the rain falling on dozens of umbrellas. Jayce himself stood under a pop-up canopy that covered the podium and the coffin.

If anyone actually deserved to be here, it was Jayce. Caitlyn didn't listen to his words but she could tell they were tailored. If they weren't he wouldn't have had the composure to continue. So for the public's sake he said what needed to be heard and nothing more.

As he finished talking, Caitlyn stepped forward. It was her turn to perform. Her turn to close out all emotion and act accordingly in the public's presence. She was ready for it, her face a steel mask appropriately somber. She was a rock. A castle. But her fortifications nearly fell in one swift move.

Jayce stepped down from the podium wrapping his arms around the sheriff. Caitlyn froze, his warm embrace a shocking contrast to the cool autumn air. The public display was uncomfortable for her, for both of them really, but Jayce felt this was his best chance at it. If she didn't need this then he certainly did.

As she succumbed to the sympathetic hug, her eyes locked with those of her pink-haired partner's. Those powerful, bright blue eyes. Vi stood out from the rest of the funeral attendees. She had worn her favorite outfit and a cocky grin in true Vi fashion. She was colorful; a maroon half-jacket, green striped leggings under bits of metal armor. And of course the shining metal of her massive hextech gauntlets. The piston head knuckles were glowing red and the power crystals on the back of the hands shined a vibrant blue. But once you got passed all that, her wild hair and the face tattoo, one couldn't help but notice the pink and purple frills of a torn skirt on her hip. 'Because sometimes a girl just wants to feel pretty,' Vi once explained.

Caitlyn smiled, if only briefly. She was thankful for whoever put up the canopy. After all portraits aren't cheap. And Caitlyn would be taking this one back home when the service was over. It was Vi's favorite.

Any warmth or joy Caitlyn felt eroded away as that last thought echoed in her mind. It was Vi's favorite. Was Vi's favorite...

Was.

Now it had become a reminder. It would forever be from now on just a glimpse into the past at what was lost. Vi...

The hug had gone on too long. Any comfort it had brought was wasted and Caitlyn found herself repulsed. Breaking off with a small shove, she thrust her umbrella at the man so he may go stand in the rain. He took the umbrella and the hint, backing out to the rest of the crowd. Away from her.

Caitlyn looked down at her hands. She was almost surprised to see they weren't empty. A single rose. She had tried to block the thought of it. She didn't want it to be real. She looked back at the crowd gathered and judged them again.

They didn't like Vi. Nuisance. Criminal. Brute. But none of them had known her. Honest. Strong. Passionate. She never played their game, never buckled to their social stigmata. Misfit. Rebel. She never compromised who she was. Violent. Vicious. Vice. Vi. She was Caitlyn's partner. Her dearest friend. She was so much more than anyone would ever know...

And she was gone.

Caitlyn placed the rose on the lid of the coffin and walked away. She knew a thousand things she could say but none of it was enough. No words were suited to convey her emotion. Vi wouldn't want words anyway. She was a woman of action.

The attendees watched as Caitlyn marched her way to the rifle party, a mere three officers with blanks loaded into their firearms. She relieved one of the men of their weapons and ordered a ready. The men and herself readied their rifles. She then ordered an aim, and the three aimed their rifles into the air.

As the coffin started it's decent, Caitlyn ordered fire and the first of three volleys thundered across the graveyard. Jayce watched as Caitlyn called out for the second volley to ready, then fire an echoing thunderclap. As she stood in the rain, her face to the sky, no one could see that she had lost. Ready, fire.

No one could tell she was crying.


End file.
